


Shaw's POV

by madlaw



Series: It Depends On Your POV [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Canon compliant IMHO, F/F, Lesbian Sex, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 17:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlaw/pseuds/madlaw
Summary: Shaw thinksaboutwhat she thinks and feels about Root and it leads to sex.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've never done this kind of story before. I was feeling kind of burnt out with my other fics and this idea came to me so I said why not. I thought it'd be short but it took four hours to finally be able to walk away.
> 
> I changed the title of the story to Shaw's POV from My Perspective because I decided at some point I'll do Root's POV while Shaw's thinking. Of course since Root has no trouble expressing herself there'll be plenty of dialogue out of her. Since Shaw doesn't speak once during the encounter, we'll see what Root's saying to provoke Shaw's thoughts. 
> 
> I'm still not happy with the title so feel free to 'shoot' any ideas at me. (I know my puns are terrible!)
> 
> As always, feed the author!

We’re in the safe house where I’ve yet again patched her up after a knife managed to penetrate her defenses when she ran out of bullets.  Again.  When I’m around I slip extra clips into her leather jacket pockets, but when she’s off for weeks on some mission, she reverts to the carelessness I’m sure will get her killed faster than Samaritan.

The innuendos have been flowing, but I’m almost immune to them now.  Although when we’re alone like this and her voice drops an octave and she’s devouring me with her eyes, it’s tempting.  Part of me wonders what she would do if for once I give her what she’s asking for.  Not the feelings part, she knows I don’t do those, and it doesn’t seem to bother her no matter how she teases.  But the sex. 

Sometimes I wonder if she really even wants me or if it’s just a game we’ve been playing.  When the bullets are flying and she’s pressed against me as we fight for our lives, I almost feel.  For her.  It’s only ever been her that’s made me feel anything, even if it’s just fury. 

People think I’m angry all the time, but it’s not anger, its apathy.  It’s all the same to me.  I’ve been trying to save the world for almost as long as I can remember, but it’s never over.  There’s always another villain.  I’m glad because I don’t know what I would do if I wasn’t fighting.  I’m a damn good soldier, unique even.  It’s not pride or ego that tells me so, its simple observation.  Few people can do what I’ve done, survive what I’ve survived, or thrive under conditions that would drive anyone to madness.

She’s sipping the scotch I gave her to numb the pain a little.  We’re out of pain meds and I haven’t had the time to restock.  I haven’t exactly tried to _make_ time.  I like the gasps and the fire in her eyes when she’s forced to stay still as I stitch her skin or pull a bullet out of her.  I’ve marked her as much as any of our enemies, because for every mark they’ve made, mine cloaks it.  I’ve made them mine.  She’s almost died more than once because she wants me to be the one.  It makes me mad when she does it, but I can’t get her to stop, no matter what I say.  So I make sure I always have a stocked med kit.  Just no meds.

Every time she raises her arm to fire a gun she feels the pull of the scar from my bullet.  I didn’t know it, but she whispered it into my ear during a gun fight early on.  She’s the master of verbal foreplay.  The lewdness of her comments increases in direct proportion to the danger of the situation.  When I die, I’m sure her voice is the last one I’ll hear, probably telling me how much she’s going to miss my ass.  Literally.

But there was the one time I couldn’t save her.  I left her because she told me to and it made perfect sense.  We would all have been captured if I’d stayed.  But it cost her dearly.  She never complains.  She never even told me, Finch did.  She wouldn’t even have been there if I’d done my job.  If I’d seen through Control’s façade.  But I always knew I’d die from a bullet in my head, so as Control ordered “two in the head,” I was okay with it. 

But I thought of her.  She’s what came to my mind during the seconds between Control’s order and her bursting in like an avenging angel, placing herself between us and the threat.  If it ever happens again, I’m not leaving her behind.  I don’t care who else dies or if I die.  I won’t do it again.

I tell myself I’m saving her from heartache.  That the feelings she has for me, the ones always burning in her eyes, mean she won’t be able to accept the little I can give her.  I tell myself it wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of what she feels to satisfy my libido.  I tell myself it would be detrimental to the team and the mission.  But it’s a lie.  They’re all lies.

I know she’ll be happy with whatever I can or choose to give.  She’s the only one who’s never tried to change me or make me be someone I’m not.  No matter what I say or do, she never stops smiling at me, adoring me with her eyes and her touch.  She doesn’t smile at anyone the way she smiles for me.  Open and inviting and promising and sometimes predatory.  I like that one best, but I like the others too. 

I know I already do the things I fear will weaken us.  I put her first.  I think I always have.  Before the mission, before anyone else, before myself. 

She understands me too.  It’s how she’s gotten under my skin.  It’s why I’m sitting here now even considering having sex with her.  I can feel her watching me.  I know if I look over, her clear brown eyes, wild and untamed, will sense my weakness.  Today I’m not sure I’ll be strong enough to push her away.  I know I don’t want to push her away.

She caresses me every time she gets close enough.  My face, my arms.  Her body migrates towards me whenever we’re in the same room.  Or maybe it’s my body.  She steals my food.  I tell myself I let her because she doesn’t eat enough and she needs to be strong to be of any use.  But mostly it’s because I don’t notice until after the fact.  Until my soda straw, or French fry, or pizza slice is already in her mouth.  She’s the only one who can sneak up on me without an automatic violent response.  It’s like my body recognizes her.

I have rules.  But I’ve broken every one for her.  She probably knows it too.  So what’s one more? 

I’ve never thought about anyone as much as I think about her.  I think if anyone could make me feel… _more_ …it would be her.  Maybe she’s the one who can turn the volume up.  I think she already has.  But why would I want to feel?  Feelings interfere and make you week.

She’s sitting next to me.  Somehow she managed to sit next to me, leaving not an inch of space between us, and I don’t notice until her hand tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear.  It’s the kind of thing that will get me killed, lowering my guard.  But no one else can do it, only her, and she will never hurt me.  

She leaves her hand resting on my shoulder and leans into me.  I finally turn and meet her gaze.  She smiles and tells me feelings make us stronger.  We fight harder for what we love.  I don’t say anything; I don’t ask how she seems to know what I’m thinking. 

I lean in until she can feel my breath on her lips.  My hand rubs the nape of her neck idly.  I can feel her stop breathing as my tongue grazes her lower lip ever so slowly.  I look into her eyes again before I finally, _finally_ bring our lips together.  Her pouty lips are moist and soft, so at odds with the lethality of her body.  I tug her bottom lip into my mouth knowing when I pull away it’ll be swollen.  But I don’t pull away.  My tongue touches hers and we dance.  She tastes like apples and something else.  Maybe danger.  If danger has a taste, it’s her.

I explore.  I run my tongue all over her mouth and her lips and I let her do the same.  It sends this bolt of longing straight to my pussy and suddenly I’m wet.  I pull her until she’s straddling me.  She looks down at me and I expect to see uncertainty and questions, but instead her eyes tell me it’s inevitable.  She knew she just had to wait.

She takes off her shirt and I run the pads of my thumbs along the seams of her bra, just above where her breasts begin their slope.  Suddenly this all feels too slow.  I want to be inside her and I want her inside of me.  I want to lick and taste her and make her moan my name.  I want to know I’m the one making _her_ feel.

She sees my intent a moment before I lunge up and carry her.  She wraps her long legs around me and it feels like they belong there.  I stagger into the bedroom rather inelegantly in my haste but I know she doesn’t care.  She looks at me, hungry and wanton, and all stormy desire.  Somehow I get my clothes off and when I crawl into the bed she’s naked too.

I settle on top of her and I feel her wetness on my thigh and my kiss this time is rough and possessive and when I run my tongue along her jaw to her ear, she moans my name.  No one has ever moaned my name like that.  It’s alive and it wraps me up and buries itself inside.

I bite sharply along her collar bone while my fingers stroke her sex, her arousal drowning my fingers.  I brace myself with my left hand, letting my bicep take my weight.  I can see her eyes drawn to my flexing muscle and I smirk. 

She’s whispering in my ear.  Talk during sex is usually bullshit and endorphin driven.  But I know she means everything she’s saying.  She’d say them without the sex if I’d let her.  I expected I want you or it feels good or my name.  But I should’ve known she wouldn’t be so pedestrian, so predictable.  She tells me what we share is subversive and worth fighting for and of course, she calls it love. 

I’m surprised she can remain articulate with my fingers caressing her body and my body on top of hers but I think she knows I won’t stop no matter what she says, maybe I’m not listening but she still needs to say it, and everything she’s been holding back needs to come out in case she never gets the chance again.  She says denying we’re connected is like denying the existence of space and time, ridiculous and ineffective.  She tells me we represent a dynamic and a symphony.  Or something like that because I’m trying to tune her out, but I can’t.  I’m listening the way I’ve never listened before until it hurts and I can’t anymore because I think it will kill me.

I silence her with my lips and my fingers as I plunge into her deeply and I could say she’s tight against my hand but I can’t really tell where my hand ends and she begins.  I’m moving inside her and she’s  moving against me and I bend down and bite her nipples and she arches her back and she moans my name like she’s dying of thirst and I’m the only glass of water in sight.  She looks magnificent, gasping for breath, one hand gripping my bicep hard enough to bruise and the other gripping the sheets.  There’s a sheen of sweat coating our bodies and I’m grunting with every thrust.  It’s not gentle, but it’s _not_ not gentle.  It’s exactly like us, we strain against each other and somehow all the sharp pieces fit.

I can feel her muscles tightening and she opens her eyes and looks into mine before the orgasm forces her to close them again.  I slow down, but I don’t pull out, because I want to see that look in her eyes again.  So I let her ride it out and start thrusting, but this time slower and shallower, and she looks at me as I move inside her and I finally know what she means about inevitability.  The energy of the moment transgresses all boundaries like it’s a universal conspiracy that binds us.  Everything’s on fire.  She’s writhing beneath me and coming undone and breaking herself wide open for me.  She comes hard with my name on her lips but I swallow it and she’s not really kissing me back just panting into my mouth.

I slide out and drop onto my back next to her, breathing hard.  I finally catch my breath, but before I move she’s on top of me.  I’m about to say she doesn’t need to reciprocate.  Whatever we just did was not fucking, but it’s not what she thinks it might be either.  But she smiles and holds me between her thighs.  Her deceptively strong thighs.

I think she knows if she says anything else I might just push her off and leave, so she doesn’t say a word.  She just keeps smiling and grinds her hips slowly against me and shifts until our clits are rubbing deliciously and I’m thrusting up to meet her, my hands on her hips, her hands over mine.  We’re generating sparks and I’m definitely about to catch fire.  I feel my orgasm building, _building_ , and suddenly it swamps me and I’m not sure how to move, where to go so it doesn’t stop.  She slows down as I ride it out and tells me its okay but I don’t know why she’s saying it until I think I feel a tear on my cheek.  But oh hell no!  I do not cry and I don’t do whatever this is we’re doing and I’m done.

But as I start to get up she pushes me down by my shoulders and claims my mouth and won’t let me say words she doesn’t want to hear.  I’m trying to intimidate her with my glare but it’s pointless because her eyes are closed and she’s not looking at me anyway.  The minute she releases my mouth I start to tell her this is a mistake and how it can’t happen, but she’s working her way down my body with her mouth.  My words are having no effect on her whatsoever, but I can’t ignore the effect her mouth is having on my body.  I’m shivering with need.  I need her mouth on me and her tongue inside me. 

As soon as the thought forms, I feel her tongue licking my folds open and circling my clit.  I grasp the iron of the headboard tightly in my hands to ground me because I think it’s possible I might say something I don’t mean or want to say.  She’s stroking my sex from the base to just under my clit and back, firmer and firmer, until I feel her tongue inside me. Her tongue is everywhere, hitting every spot that excites me and makes me growl. 

I don’t even realize when she trades her fingers for her tongue and starts fucking me like she has all the time in the world.  It’s hard and soft and slow and not fast enough and I realize I’m trying to grind on her tongue and I feel so full like she’s not just inside my pussy but inside me.  My entire body feels electric, my nipples are hard, my ears are hot, and she starts sucking on my clit while she runs her tongue just underneath and her fingers are moving in all the right ways and my muscles contract so hard its painful but I keep reaching until I can’t breathe and lights flash behind my eyelids and my orgasm explodes through me and my toes are curling and I’m arching into her mouth, hoping she can get further inside.

She stops licking my clit but doesn’t pull out while she crawls up my body.  Waves are still cresting and she licks and sucks and then bites my nipple so hard and it sends another current of pleasure to my clit and she’s moving inside again and this time it’s hard and fast and she forces another orgasm from me even when I think it’s impossible and I’m still riding the waves of the first.

I don’t do sappy but I think my bones have melted.  I feel languid and sleepy and I’m not thinking much.  I think that was her goal.  She didn’t want to give me time to get inside my head.

I watch her get up and walk to the bathroom.  I must fall asleep because when I open my eyes again she’s dressed and sitting on the bed watching me with content eyes and smiling gently.  She tells me she needs to leave on a mission and she wouldn’t trade the last few hours for anything and it will always be her favorite memory no matter what comes next. 

I don’t say anything but her look never wavers, never changes, never doubts.  Then she tells me I have a decision to make.  She says love is a decision, a judgment, a promise.  A feeling comes and goes, but love is an exercise of will.  She tells me I’m the strongest person she’s ever known.  She tells me I can choose to love her or not; that her love is not dependent on mine.  She tells me her body is mine and only mine and she will never deny me whether I love her or not, because she wants to be mine whether I want her or not.

Then she stands up and tells me she’ll see me soon and reminds me not deciding is also a decision.  She bends down and kisses me gently, not quickly but not too long.  She smiles and leaves. 

 

* * *

 

I don’t know what I’m thinking.  Actually I’m not thinking.  I call Finch and tell him to send me her location.  When he tells me he doesn’t know, I tell him to ask the Machine.  I want to point out it’s why I called him, but it will just lead to more conversation.  He tells me what I want to know and I hang up without saying goodbye and before he can say anything else.

I take a quick shower enjoying her scent on my body until it’s gone with the water swirling down the drain.  I dress quickly and grab my gun and remember to grab extra clips for hers. 

I find her and her guns clicking empty as she’s grinning at the two agents about to end her life.  I toss her a clip and they turn to see where it came from.  But it’s too late and they’re writhing on the floor before they even see me.  She tells me we need to get inside because she needs some code or something for the Machine.  I’m not listening again because it doesn’t matter what she needs to do, I’m here to cover her back.  It all goes smoothly and we’re walking down the sidewalk before she says anything.

I tense automatically but she just grabs my arm like she always does and asks if I’m hungry.  I don’t even have to answer.  She’s grinning and I’m rolling my eyes and scowling and shaking my head.  It’s like a million other moments we’ve shared in the last couple of years.  It feels different to me and I wonder if it feels different to her but I don’t ask.  She doesn’t mention the last few hours or ask me anything, she just prattles on as she tends to do while I grunt every once in a while. 

The food comes and my burger tastes better than any other ever.  She ordered a salad of course, but at least it has chicken.  She steels my fries and I pretend not to notice.  I know I’ll decide at some point.  But it doesn’t have to be now.  I know she’ll wait.            


End file.
